


I'm still standing (better than I ever did)

by sirenofodysseus



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Dark!Wainwright, Fake end of the world scenerio, H/C Prompt: Wasteland, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Naive!O'Laughlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 04:13:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9106189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirenofodysseus/pseuds/sirenofodysseus
Summary: AU. Something about Luther’s tale doesn’t settle well, but the man’s never been a good liar.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ...and with this fic, I have completed my H/C Bingo Card with the last prompt of: wasteland. 
> 
> (I would apologize for my love of the Laughwright ship, but meh. Life is way too short for that!)

Luther Wainwright is a dutiful husband, until he’s not. The wedding band of silver that sits on his ring finger feels almost like a noose, instead of a lifelong commitment, when his husband walks through the door—reeking of booze and cheap women. He’s never been the jealous type, but under the right motivation (i.e. the divorce papers he’s presented, on the eve of their fifth anniversary); his search history suddenly goes from the mundane, everyday tasks to “ _odorless and tasteless drugs_ ”. His soon-to-be ex-husband remains oblivious to the quiet gathering of items or the fact, the night “the world ends” for Craig O’Laughlin and Luther Wainwright-O’Laughlin, Luther offers his husband a drink of their high-end vodka.

            “Let’s toast to brand new beginnings,” Luther tells him, softly, before Craig downs his glass.

 

            Craig is out before he finishes his glass of vodka.

 

::::

 

            When Craig wakes, mouth dry and body aching, the world has ended. He’s also living with his soon-to-be ex-husband in a bunker, underground—something, he doesn’t quite understand or believe right away. Because _seriously_ – the “end of the world” gimmick only truly happened in books, movies and on television shows—but his glimpse of the world outside, shows him nothing but a barren wasteland, for miles and miles and Craig’s first thought is _oh fuck_.

           

            “What happened?” Craig asks in surprise and so, Luther spins a _horrific_ tale of nuclear bombs and few survivors and how they’ve _apparently_ had a bomb shelter under their home for years. Something about Luther’s tale doesn’t settle well, but the man’s never been a good liar. And the expression on Luther’s face is one of pure fright. Craig says nothing. He’s never been good at comforting others anyway.

           

            “We’ll be fine for the next few months,” Luther tells him, voice quivering and Craig frowns. “We have enough food and water to feed us both.” He seems to shrink into himself and without thinking, Craig inches closer to his ex-love and wraps an arm around his shoulder.

 

            “We’ll be fine. I promise.”

 

            Craig misses the sinister smile from Luther all together.

::::

 

            Unfortunately, their shelter is not without fault; it has only one twin-sized bed and noises carry. So when Luther beats one off, not _too_ long after the initial news of the world ending, Craig can’t help but groan quietly in frustration. The last time he had sex, prior to the world ending, had been three days prior to the divorce paperwork. Regardless of Luther’s continued feelings of jealousy, Craig O’Laughlin had never touched anyone else but his husband.

            Why the divorce then? Because he was tired of the constant accusations, the cold shoulders and the nights of cold, soggy dinners. He understands that _maybe_ he should have treated his husband a little bit better, but at the same time, nobody can thrive under jealousy and mistrust.

            Hearing his ex-husband moan and groan and scream when he finally comes forces him to bite his own lip so hard that he nearly draws blood. When Luther had announced the single bed, Craig had half-expected his ex to pull some crap about “needing warmth” or “not wanting to be alone” – but Luther hadn’t.

            In fact, Luther had claimed the bedroom as his own and had left Craig to the hard floor.

            He can’t really say he’s in the mood to jerk himself off, thanks to the whole _the world ended_ thing, but Luther’s continued sounds of pleasure make his fingers dip below the waistband of his sweats. He quietly attempts to fix his little problem with a little moisture, when he’s suddenly swept away by his own pleasure.

 

            In the darkness, he doesn’t see Luther’s spying eyes as he releases into his hand or as he mutters _Luther_ under his breath.

 

::::

 

Luther has a conscious.

 

Luther has a conscious and he has morals. He _knows_ right from wrong and yet…

 

            Neither of _those_ things stops him from restraining his husband. Or forces him to tell Craig, they’re actually in the desert and the world _hasn’t_ ended. 

 

_Eventually,_ Luther thinks, as he’s gyrating his hips against his husband’s finely-toned ass, _I’ll tell him._

 

            (He never does.)


End file.
